


Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by barefootinthesunshine



Category: Kiss and Consume - Lynelle Barrett, The Witches of Lufton Series - Lynelle Barrett
Genre: (i mean i imagine it is... the book did allude to a sexual relationship between them), Blood Bond, Blood Drinking, Books, Canon - Book, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Historical, Historical Romance, Human/Vampire Relationship, Mind Manipulation, Rough Sex, Seduction, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Waistcoats, Wall Sex, aka my interpretation of how they truly met, and yet i'm somehow intrigued by their bond, clara deserves the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootinthesunshine/pseuds/barefootinthesunshine
Summary: When Dr. Ira Wyman first meets Clara Boyd, he instantly knows what to do with her... Sexual content warning.





	Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Clara Boyd came to him on a warm, summery day, brazen and sweet-faced as she told him she needed an herbal remedy – something about her mother’s stomach, if he had heard her correctly. Ira had only been half-listening. It had been rather difficult to, what with her being Abigail Hynes’ best friend. Her arrival now left him with an unexpected ace up his sleeve.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Lifting his eyes, Ira cocked a brow as a flash of impatience crossed Clara’s face. Normally, women of this caliber irritated him. They were far too much like…

“…her. I know she would be cross with me for telling you all this, but you’re a doctor, for goodness sake!” Unruffled, Clara shrugged. “I presume you have a remedy for this?”

“I’m sorry, for…?”

“Goodness! You’re truly going to make me say all that again?” Rolling her eyes, Clara sighed through her nose. “As I’ve _already_ said, my mother is suffering from stomach issues with most embarrassing symptoms…the kind with bloating.”

“Ah.” Ira allowed a tight smile. “Yes, I can help your mother.”

“Good.” Expression softening somewhat, Clara folded her arms and watched him turn toward his shelves. He was handsome – tall and blonde and with the strangest, most riveting eyes. It brought a stirring to her that she didn’t wish to admit. She hadn’t felt this kind of warm, tingling sensation since…

“Where are you from?” she asked, desperate to change her train of thought. “You have a slight accent, but I cannot place it.”

Ira’s shoulders stiffened somewhat, yet once he found the dyspepsia fusion, his posture relaxed again and he returned to her with the bottle. “I am from all over,” he said cryptically. “Here, Paris, London, Rome, you name it.”

Clara’s brow knit. “You’re from _here?”_

Realizing his mistake, Ira plastered on a false smile. “No, no, not _here_ – from America. Boston, if you wish to be specific.”

“Oh, I love Boston! Such a charming little city.” Green eyes growing decidedly feline, she asked, “Would you ever take me? I’ve been told I make a delightful companion.”

Ira appraised Clara again – the sly, coquettish slant of her eyes, her pouty lips, and the clear effort to pronounce her breasts as she crossed her arms – and suddenly, he realized just how _easy_ she would be to control. With most of his victims, he liked to build up a certain level of trust before the attack, but Clara was practically ripe for the plucking.

Holding out the fusion, Ira smiled in that wry, cocksure way that had always made women swoon. Clara, too, did not appear immune to his charms, and she bit her lip as she reached for the bottle. Carefully, he folded her hands around the medicine and Clara jerked a little, startled by the chill coming through his gloves. Otherwise, she seemed completely besotted.

“Thank you for your help, Doctor.”

Ira nodded, releasing her hands while nodding to the door. “I shall show you out.”

“Oh…well thank you.” Walking alongside him, she hesitated as he opened the door for her. “Welcome to Lufton,” she said. “I can already tell you shall be most attentive.”

Ira smiled at her in that sly, boyish way again, and Clara shivered in response. He shut the door on her a moment after.

* * *

She didn’t come to him again for a full week. This time when she walked through the door, she was dressed in a flouncy, pretty dress that enhanced the startling green of her eyes.

“Hello, Dr. Wyman,” she chirped. “I have come to let you know your treatment was a success.”

“I am glad to hear it, though I expected no less,” Ira said, smiling as he rolled up his sleeves. “Does your mother need another bottle?”

Clara shook her head. “No, not for now, thank you. Though I do intend to recommend you to all my friends.”

“Indeed?”

“Well…just the ones who aren’t as pretty as me.” She smirked, clear flirtation flashing across her eyes. “I would hate to have someone snatch you up right from underneath my nose.”

Ira approached her then and Clara bit her lip, admiring how his waistcoat buttons gleamed and the cotton, form-fitting sleeves enhanced the power of his arms. He could do a lot to a girl with those arms…those _hands._ They seemed deft and gifted in ways she had never before experienced.

“Do you require payment, Doctor?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The fusion…I gave you money, yet my gratitude far extends what I have paid,” she said. “Might I show you my full appreciation?” With a meaningful look to her eyes, Clara took hold of his wrist and guided his hand over her breast. He was still deathly cold to the touch, which caused her nipple to harden instantly beneath his palm.

“This is truly what you desire?”

Nodding eagerly, she gave a sweet sigh when his thumb began to tease and rub her through the fabric. With trembling, impatient fingers, she lifted her hands and started unfastening his waistcoat, but yelped when his gloved hand clamped down hard on her wrist. His grip tightened and she halted, gazing up at him with wide, bemused eyes.

“Allow me,” he hissed. 

Nodding dumbly, she resisted further movement and held still, trembling with anticipation as Ira lifted her skirts beyond what was decent. Clara tried to kiss him, but he moved so that their cheeks pressed together instead. She huffed softly, frustrated, only to whimper when his gloved fingers dipped beneath her dress and stroked her in a firm, solid circle around her bud.

“Please,” she begged.

Clara was _obscenely_ ready for him. Even through his gloves, Ira could feel her soaking his fingers as he traced along her opening. Evidently, this hadn’t been a spur of the moment decision for her, given how she had elected not to wear undergarments that afternoon.

Amused, he pushed her back against the wall and unfastened his breeches. In his seventy-plus years of immortality, he had never been interested in sex or gratification – it had all been done as a means to an end, and this little excursion was no different. He felt _nothing_ for the mewling, eager girl in his arms beyond what she could give him, and judging by the impassioned, wet little kisses she kept peppering to his neck, she was _quite_ willing to give.

With his breeches and undergarments now around his knees, Ira hefted Clara into his arms and supported her bottom with his hands, her fingers knotting through his hair as he drove into her with a rough, firm thrust that had her clawing at his scalp.

Moaning softly, Clara hooked her legs around his waist and buried her face into his shoulder, her muffled cries catching against his shirt as he harshly pounded into her warmth. He felt like _ice_ everywhere he touched her, and yet the sensation was electrifying to her senses. She rolled her hips into his thrusts and tipped her head toward the wall, baring to him her slim, vulnerable throat.

Finally, _finally,_ Ira opened his mouth against her skin in a pseudo-kiss, his tongue tracing her pulse as she intermittently clenched around his hardness. She was close…

Reaching between them, Ira rubbed at her clit, if only to further addle Clara’s mind, before sucking more eagerly at her pulse point. In response, his fangs began to take shape and trace along her skin. Clara hardly seemed to take notice. She whined and held him close, begging over and over for him to take her apart.

_If you insist…_

Yanking her by the hair, Ira further exposed her neck and sank his teeth into her jugular. Clara seized up, overwhelmed, while a staggering orgasm simultaneously ripped through her trembling body. With her back pressed against the wall, her mouth opened in a silent scream and she held on to his shoulders, sagging weakly into his thrusts as she clenched and spasmed around his cock. Ira’s lips remained tightly latched onto her neck, and he gorged upon the iron tang of her blood.

“Please…” Whimpering, Clara wilted in his arms just as Ira removed his mouth from her throat. He halted in his thrusts and groaned, pleased from his ever-present bloodlust being sated.

“You were quite the good girl,” he whispered, licking at her wound. “Can you stand?”

Whining softly, Clara attempted to place both her feet on the floor as he disengaged from her shaking, woozy body. While she held fast to his waistcoat, he resituated his clothing, cleaned off his bloody mouth, and then helped her away from the wall.

“My dear girl,” he coyly began, “it would seem that you now belong to me.”

“Yes…” Dazed, Clara reached up and touched his cheek. “I would do anything for you.”

“And so you shall.” Pressing a perfunctory kiss to her forehead, Ira cupped her face and admired his latest work. She would be _perfect_ in leading to Abigail’s downfall. “You shall have the strength to return home. If anyone asks, you were out taking a walk.”

Nodding dumbly, Clara held still as Ira removed the shawl from her shoulders and began wrapping it around her neck in a makeshift scarf.

“There, now,” he declared. _“Now_ you may go. You must never let anyone see what we have shared.”

Nodding again, she managed a smile. “Might I see you again?”

“Soon – I promise you that.”

Clara moved to kiss him, but this time Ira allowed it. Her warmth contrasted starkly with his coldness, and he kept his mouth closed against her searching tongue.

_Go home, girl,_ he mentally commanded. _When I am in need of you again, I shall summon you._

Abruptly halting in her amorous movements, Clara lowered back down to her feet and turned away from him, dazed and under his thrall as she headed for the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! We don't yet know Ira's/Jacob's backstory since that prequel hasn't come out yet (not 'til 2020), so I did my best to get inside his mind with what we DO know. Clara is my favorite character from _Kiss and Consume,_ and even though she definitely deserves to be far away from Ira/Jacob, I can't help but be intrigued by their bond.


End file.
